


Little Sparks

by SmilinStar



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't die."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

“Are you here to try and talk me out of this? Because I’ll tell you this now, Skye already tried and she failed miserably.”

He’s standing there, black t-shirt, bulletproof vest, reloading his gun like he does it in his sleep. He’s not looking at her, but she can see the hard set of his jaw, and the tightly wound up tension in every fibre of every muscle. She can feel it coming off of him in waves, oppressive and contagious.

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt, and looks at the display in front of her. The blueprints of the building glares at them in blue, the blinking red dot meeting the race of her heart, beat for beat.

“He’s your brother. I get it.”

He drops the gun on to the table, and leans heavily against it. His hands grip the edge, knuckles white with all his weight bearing down on them.

“I know I don’t have any siblings. But I do get it. If it was Fitz in there …” she leaves the rest of that thought to linger in the air.

She looks up at him, “You do know it’s a trap though, right?”

His eyes stray to the display, to that one red dot still pulsing with life.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

And with that single syllable that slow burning ache in the centre of her chest sparks anew, burns brighter and is that much more painful.

“But you’ll still go anyway,” she says quietly.

He looks down at her then, and she thinks that’s an apology she sees there in his eyes.

“Because you’re Agent Grant Ward.”

The soft chuckle that leaves his mouth and the wry smile on his face does nothing to fight the flames.

“Don’t die.”

The smile leaves his lips instantly, and Jemma can hardly believe she said the words aloud.

“I mean, what I mean to say is, don’t come back bleeding all over my lab floor. If I have to bring out my needle and thread again, I’m going to make sure I do such a bad job they leave a horrible scar, and that’ll teach you.” She’s sure she’s bright red now with her babbling, but the gentle smile is starting to re-emerge on his lips and it is doing silly things to her stomach.

“Jemma Simmons, do a bad job? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Don’t try me.”

He shakes his head and then looks back at her.

She’s not sure when he moved, but he seems to be a whole lot closer than he had been before, and she feels entirely surrounded. She’s breathing him in and feels dizzy. So dizzy. Dizzy dizzy dizzy.

It doesn’t help things much, when she feels the heavy warmth of his hand resting on top of hers. She’s clutching the table, but his fingers manage to pry them away and somehow she’s now standing there with her hand in his much larger one, and with his thumb setting off little sparks across her skin as he trails senseless patterns.

“We’re really going to have to talk about this,” she says. Her voice may be quiet, but it never wavers and she wonders where this newfound bravery has come from.

She thinks it has nothing to do with him, but everything to do with them.

“When I get back,” he says.

“When you get back,” she repeats.

It’s a promise she holds him to.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're mad."

She’s there at the top of the ramp when the black SUV pulls in.

She knows he’s been safe for hours. She’d been hovering closely over Skye when she’d hacked into the building’s security mainframe, listening intently to every word spoken, footstep taken and gunshot fired over the radio communication. When his voice had come in loud and clear over the crackle of static with the words, “I’ve found him. He’s alive,” she’d nearly cried with the sheer relief, and given herself away to the rest of the team.

It’s not until she sees him clamber gingerly out of the car that her relief turns to consternation.

She gets only a fleeting glance as Coulson pulls him away for a debrief.

It’s late when he finally comes and finds her.

She studiously ignores the slide of the glass door, slips an empty petri dish on to her microscope and stares down at magnified nothingness.

If he notices he doesn’t say anything. And she knows he hasn’t because his eyes are burning holes into the back of her head to notice anything else.

“You’re mad.”

It’s not even a question.

She doesn’t answer nevertheless.

“That wasn’t my blood.”

And she can’t help it. He defuses her anger just like that, because god help her she cares. She cares about this stupidly bull headed, idiotically over-protective, surprisingly goofy, beautiful, marvellous man.

She turns around to find him leaning against the holotable.

“How is he?”

“Pretty beaten up, they’re keeping him in overnight for observation.”

“But he’s going to be alright?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “he’s going to be okay.”

“And you?” she asks, almost holding her breath as her eyes rove all over his face, down to his bruised knuckles.

“No bullet holes, I promise.”

She can’t help the small curve of her lips, “Good, because I meant what I’d said.”

He inches forward as she backs away into the work bench, and that ache in her chest is starting up all over again.

“You know, I still don’t believe you would just leave me to bleed all over your lab floor.”

“No, I said I’d just leave a horrible scar.”

He’s nearly in front of her and she’s struck again by the familiarity of Grant Ward induced dizziness.

“You also said we were going to talk about this.”

She gulps down a breath, and counters with, “You never answered my question.”

He looks confused and the crease in his brow has her wanting to reach out and smooth it over. Instead she reaches for his hand, runs a thumb over the scrapes on his knuckles, and looks up at him.

_Are you going to be ok?_

She knows the second her meaning sinks in.

His eyes connect with hers, and the clarity in them is startling.

She lifts his hand to her mouth, eyes never leaving his as she places a feathery light kiss over his bruises.

She does it just to see that clarity haze over, to see him lose that last bit of self control.

He doesn’t disappoint.

His eyes darken, stray to her lips and stay there.

The ache is now a full blown burning fire.

And it is glorious.

His lips crash into hers and she is lost.

He kisses her with an intensity that leaves her breathless.

His hands are almost everywhere all at once. Tangled in her hair, running down her arm, clutching at her back, and before she knows it he’s pulled her up on to the bench and her legs wrap around him, tugging him in close.

Frantic turns slow and languid, and when he finally pulls away, forehead resting on hers, his answer is there in his mirroring smile.

_Yes._

 


End file.
